


Road Trips Were Made For Emergency Playlists

by mysecretashes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bromance, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Humor, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Phone Sex, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysecretashes/pseuds/mysecretashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Allison end up at the same college all the way across the country, and every summer they take a road trip back home.</p>
<p>This is their last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Road Trips Were Made For Emergency Playlists

**Author's Note:**

> So I've had this idea for a couple of months now, and somehow ended up writing the whole ridiculous thing in one day.
> 
> The Stiles/Allison is 100% platonic bromance only.
> 
>    
> Huge thank yous go to eldee for the beta. <3

"Ready?" Stiles asks, tossing the last of their bags into the back of the Jeep.

"I am _so_ ready," Allison says, slipping her sunglasses on and grinning at him excitedly.

Stiles turns and takes one last look at the building where they've shared an apartment for the past three years, only a few miles from the NYU campus. "So long, New York. It was nice while it lasted."

"Beacon Hills, here we come," Allison says, and Stiles mirrors her grin because he knows she really means _Scott and Derek, here we come_.

He can't wait to get home.

*

Stiles glances at the radio in horror, the hard metal song blasting back at him carelessly. "What the hell?"

Allison ignores him, singing along to whatever-the-fuck she'd put it on. Her feet are up on the dashboard and her window is down, the wind causing her hair to fly crazily around her head. Stiles tries to wait it out, but the third time he cringes at the screaming noise of the lead singer's voice, he can't take any more and reaches over to flip the station.

"Hey!" Allison drops her feet and removes her sunglasses to glare at him. "I was listening to that."

"That was shit," Stiles says flatly.

Allison narrows her eyes, looking between him and the radio, which is now playing a pop song. "And this is better?"

Stiles shrugs. "Better than something that will make my ears bleed? Yes."

Allison doesn't say anything for a minute, and then she reaches over and switches the station back.

Stiles scowls, and flips it back to the pop music. "Driver picks the music."

"Passenger has a crossbow," Allison says, and turns the metal music back on, looking smug.

Stiles scoffs. "You wouldn't shoot me, you love me." He changes it back to the pop.

"Not right now I don't," Allison says, voice dark, and metal fills the air.

Stiles grits his teeth and reaches over to flip the station again, but Allison slaps his hand away, giving him an angry glare.

So Stiles slaps back, which is a bad idea, but goddamn it, he can't drive with that shit playing. Unfortunately, Allison doesn't give up easily – a good thing at almost any other time – and pretty soon they're having a slap fight over the radio. Stiles tries to keep the Jeep steady with one hand, but neither of them are really paying attention.

The blare of a horn makes them both jump, and Stiles looks up to see that he's swerved into the other lane and a huge truck is coming right at them.

"Shit!" he yells, snatching the wheel, and Allison screams as they barely pass the truck and go into a spin in the middle of the empty road.

When they finally come to a stop, they're facing a field and Stiles has no idea which direction they were even going in. His heart is pounding and his hands are still clutching the wheel, knuckles white, and when he looks over at Allison she's looking back at him with wide eyes, pale and terrified.

"Not a word to Scott or Derek," she says, and Stiles shakes his head.

"Nope."

Allison reaches into her pocket and pulls out her iPod. "Emergency playlist?"

"Yep." 

Stiles grabs his phone to check the GPS, and then turns the Jeep in the right direction as a song they both love fills the air.

*

"If I leave here tomorrow –"

"Would you still remember me?"

"For I must be travelling on now –"

"'Cause there's too many places I've got to see –"

*

Two days in, they get lost.

"How the fuck did you get us lost?" Allison says, scowling down at the map they have spread out over the hood of the Jeep.

"It's not my fault!" Stiles insists. "We're in the middle of fucking nowhere, there's no signal on my phone. No signal means no GPS."

Allison actually snarls, a bad habit she's picked up from all the werewolves in their lives, and Stiles rolls his eyes. They're parked next to a rundown little gas station where they'd bought the map from, and Stiles is pretty sure the creepy attendant is watching them from the dirty window.

"I don't like it here," Stiles says, glancing over at the station. "Something about it is just…off."

"Then help me with this goddamned map," Allison says through gritted teeth.

Stiles looks over her shoulder, tilting his head to the side as he considers the numerous lines all over the place. "I think it's upside down."

Allison stares at it for another minute, and then turns it over with a sigh.

"Excuse me."

Stiles startles at the sound of the creepy attendant's voice behind him, and he turns with a scowl, mouth opening to tell the guy off.

Except his eyes are _purple_ – bright, glowing purple – and he's grinning with a lot more sharp teeth than he had before.

"Um," Stiles says, tugging on Allison's shirt.

Allison turns, and the sudden tenseness in her shoulders is the only indicator that's she surprised at what she sees. She steps back into Stiles, and he knows her eyes are probably narrowed but he doesn't dare look away from the – the whatever-the-fuck is in front of them.

"You smell like werewolf," the guy says, and a line of saliva trails down his chin. "I'm hungry. It's been so long since I've eaten."

"You – you're not going to _eat us_ ," Stiles says, disbelief coloring his words.

"How do we smell like werewolf?" Allison says, and she sounds pissed. "We haven't seen them in months!"

Stiles resists the urge to roll his eyes, but only because the guy takes a step closer, a disgusting moan echoing from his throat. 

"Uh. I don't think now is the time for that," Stiles says, gesturing at the creature in front of them. "Did you miss the part where he wants to _eat us_?"

Allison doesn't get a chance to answer because the guy is apparently done waiting. He lunges at them, swiping with claws longer than even Derek's, and manages to snag the edge of Stiles' t-shirt. Stiles jumps back just in time, throwing himself in front of Allison and taking them both down to the ground.

"Fuck!" Allison yells, and tries to wriggle out from under him. "Get off me, I need my crossbow!"

Stiles rolls off, scrambling up and out of the way, doing his best to put himself between Allison and the creature so she can get to her weapon. He spares a thought for his own dagger, marked with runes and infused with wolfsbane, but it's tucked safely in the side pocket of one of his bags and so very far out of reach.

The guy is advancing, purple eyes wild and desperate, a constant high-pitched growl aimed in their direction.

"So," Stiles says, taking a couple of steps back to try and keep a healthy distance between them. "Do you have a – a family, or a pack, or you know, someone who will come after us for killing you? Because that's what's going to happen – "

"Stiles, get down," he hears Allison yell from behind him just as the guy _yowls_ in fury and lunges for him again. Stiles immediately drops, instinct from years of fighting creatures that shouldn't exist, and the whiz of an arrow goes over him. There's a sickening thud and a shocked grunt, and then the guy fucking explodes, purple goo going everywhere.

Mostly all over Stiles.

"Oh, fucking _gross_ ," he says, sitting up and shaking off the guy's insides.

Allison winces, giving him a sympathetic look. "Sorry."

Stiles sighs. "It's fine. Just – could you grab a trash bag or something? I'm not getting back in my Jeep in clothes covered in purple entrails."

Stiles strips down to this boxers – there's even crap in his socks, what the hell – and they stuff his ruined clothes and as much of the exploded creature into a trash bag as they can find. They drag it around back and burn it, the smoke thick at the back of Stiles' throat.

"Come on," Allison says, heading back for the Jeep when they've made sure there's nothing left but ashes. "Let's find a motel so you can shower."

"And call Derek," Stiles mutters.

"Yeah," Allison says, and they exchange knowing looks.

*

"There ain't no load that I can't hold –"

"Road so rough, this I know –"

"I'll be there when the light comes in –"

"Just tell 'em we're survivors –"

*

They find a motel two hours later, near enough to an actual town that there shouldn't be any more random creature attacks, but far enough away that they shouldn't get any suspicious looks. Stiles, still in nothing but his boxers and his shoes, waits in the Jeep while Allison gets them a room.

"All they had was a single Queen," Allison says when she climbs back into the Jeep, sounding apologetic.

"Whatever," Stiles says. He sends her a lascivious grin. "It's not like we haven't shared a bed before."

Allison punches him in the arm but she's smiling, so he counts it as a win.

Once they're safely locked in the motel room – which is surprisingly nice – Stiles grabs a set of clean clothes from the bag he'd brought in and heads for the shower. Allison is already lying on the bed, phone pressed to her ear, and Stiles pretends like he doesn't know what she'll be doing while he's in the bathroom.

It's not a chore to take an extra long shower and give her some privacy; there's purple goo in places he really doesn't want to think about. When he comes out of the bathroom half an hour later, Allison is just hanging up with Scott, looking slightly rumpled and a lot more relaxed.

"Your turn," Stiles says, running a towel over his wet hair.

Allison smirks and grabs her own clean clothes. "I could say the same to you."

Stiles laughs, and drops a kiss on her cheek as she passes. He wonders when exactly they got so comfortable talking about their sex lives, and then decides it probably doesn't matter. His phone is lying on the table where he'd set it earlier, and he grabs it before plopping down on his side of the bed, pressing Derek's speed dial number.

"Hey," Derek answers, and Stiles grins at the happiness in his voice.

"Hey yourself," Stiles says. "I didn't interrupt anything, did I?"

"Maybe," Derek says, and Stiles can _hear_ the smirk in his voice. "I was just thinking about you."

Stiles' stomach swoops the way it always does, even after four years, and his dick gives an interested twitch. "Specifics, dude. I've been driving for two days, and have another two to go."

Derek laughs, low and sexy, and Stiles groans as the sound goes straight to his dick.

"Where's Allison?"

"In the shower," Stiles says, running his fingertips under his shirt and across his stomach. "She's already had her turn with Scott while I was showering, now come on before we run out of time."

Derek snorts. "Impatient."

"Damn right," Stiles says, proud, and then quieter, "I miss you."

"I miss you too," Derek says, and it sounds like he's smiling for real now. "You do know I'm not letting you out of my apartment for at least a week once you get here, right?"

Stiles hums, grinning at the ceiling. "No can do, dude. I've got to see my dad and Scott and everyone else. You know none of them will leave us alone until I do."

"Fine," Derek mutters after a moment. "But I at least get you for the first twenty-four hours."

"Deal," Stiles says, and worms his hand into his pajama bottoms to tease his fingers over his half-hard cock. He and Allison haven't had dinner yet, but they don't need to get dressed to go through a drive-thru. And he doesn't want to think about Allison right now, so he focuses on Derek's breathing. "So what were you thinking about?"

Derek makes a thoughtful noise. "You. How I can't wait to see you. How I want to fuck you against the door as soon as you walk through it, and then fuck you over the back of the couch, and then fuck you in my bed. It doesn't smell like you anymore, like us."

Stiles groans, dick going rock hard in an instant. It really has been far too long since he's seen Derek. "We'll have to fix that," he says, shoving his pajama bottoms down to his thighs and his shirt up to his chest. "You can fuck me first, fill me with your come, and then I can fuck you until neither of us can move."

Derek swears, voice going high and tight in that way it does when he's really turned on. "Jesus Christ, your _mouth_."

Stiles knows Derek means his words, but he can't help himself from taking such a perfect opening. "Yeah. Yeah, I want you to fuck that too. I want to feel your dick in my mouth, to swallow it down as deep as I can. You can be rough if you want, you know I like that. Your hand in my hair, holding me in place as you fuck my throat."

Derek grunts, loud and familiar, and Stiles grins because yeah, he just made Derek come first. He waits, stroking his dick not-quite-lazily, knowing he doesn't have enough time to go too slow.

"God, Stiles," Derek finally breathes. "You have no idea what I want to do to you when you get here."

"Tell me," Stiles says, spitting into his hand before gripping himself tightly. "Please."

"That," Derek says. "After we get your scent everywhere again, I'm going to slow down and make you beg. Maybe I'll pull out the cuffs, tie you down to the bed and rim you until you're sobbing for my dick."

"Oh fuck." Stiles' hips hitch, pushing his dick through his slick fist. Heat is starting to pool at the base of his spine and he knows he won't need much more. "And then?"

"I'll fuck you with my fingers first, three deep, maybe even four, stretching you wide open and getting you ready for me. When I finally push into you with my dick you'll already be so far gone you'll come before I'm all the way in. I won't stop though, I'll just fuck you through it and then keep fucking you until you're hard again, until you're begging me to let you come. I'll finish first this time, filling you full of my come, and when I'm done I'll flip you over and suck you off with my fingers deep inside of your ass."

Stiles' eyes roll back in his head and he comes, a strangled moan tearing itself out of his throat as his dick pulses in his hand, coating his stomach. "Fuck, _Derek_."

Derek chuckles, like he knows exactly what he's done. He probably does. "You okay?"

"Very," Stiles says, and wishes he could just lay there and bask in the afterglow. He can't though; Allison will be coming out of the bathroom soon, and he still hasn't told Derek about the crazy gas station creature. "You are so much better at that than you used to be."

"Thanks," Derek says drily, and Stiles can almost hear him rolling his eyes.

"Uh, not to kill the happy mood we've got going," Stiles starts, rolling off the bed to grab the towel he'd dropped on the floor and clean himself off, "but I'm pretty sure Allison will have already told Scott, and I don't want you to find out second-hand –"

"What happened?" Derek asks, voice going sharp. "Are you two okay?"

"We're fine," Stiles says, adjusting his clothes to cover himself again. "I swear. We just – we got lost today, and ended up at a shithole of a gas station to buy a map, and the attendant turned out to be some sort of insane purple-eyed thing that wanted to eat us."

" _Stiles_."

"Allison went totally badass and killed him, okay? All I did was get covered in purple guts. We weren't hurt."

Derek sighs. "Should I expect an angry pack of vengeful purple-eyed creatures in my territory soon?"

"I don't think so?" Stiles winces, sitting on the side of the bed. "I mean, I asked him, but he didn't really seem like he wanted to answer, you know? And we burned what was left of him, along with my ruined clothes, so I don't think there's a trail."

"Jesus Christ," Derek mutters.

"I'd apologize but it's really not my fault."

Derek makes a disbelieving noise, which Stiles would find insulting if he didn't know for a fact that Derek doesn't blame him for half the things he says he does.

"You'll be home in two days?"

"Two days," Stiles says, and then, because he can, "I love you."

"I love you too," Derek says. "Even though you drive me _insane_."

Stiles grins. "You mean _because_ I drive you insane. Don't lie, you told me so."

"I'd been poisoned, I can't be held responsible for what I may or may not have said under the influence."

Stiles laughs. "Whatever you say. I'll see you in two days."

"No more weird-ass creatures between now and then."

"No promises," Stiles says, and hangs up before Derek can protest.

Almost immediately he gets a text that reads _goddamn it, Stiles_ , and he grins and sends back a winky face.

*

"We've got to hold on to what we've got –"

"'Cause it doesn't make a difference if we make it or not –"

"We've got each other and that a lot –"

"For love – _we'll give it a shot_ –"

*

In retrospect, trying to drive through the giant mud puddle in the middle of a torrential rainstorm was probably not the best idea.

In his defense, the Jeep is a four-wheel drive vehicle and has been through far worse than a little mud.

" _Stiles_ ," Allison says, frustration laced through her voice. She reaches over and wraps her hand around his wrist, shaking his arm slightly to try and make him let go of the steering wheel. "We're stuck, okay? I know you love your Jeep, and it's gotten us through a lot, but right now, it's failed us."

"She has not," Stiles snaps, and guns it just because. They slide a bit to the right, but that's all. "Goddamn it!"

He groans and drops his forehead onto the steering wheel.

"I know," Allison says soothingly, rubbing a hand over his back. "I know, honey."

"I don't understand," Stiles says, raising his head a few inches only to drop it back again. "She's been so good to me. Why this? Why now?"

"Even good cars have their moments," Allison says. "Maybe she just needs a little help?"

Stiles sighs and sits up. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

He digs into his pockets and pulls out his phone and his wallet, dropping them into Allison's lap.

"What are you doing?" Allison says, brows drawing together in confusion.

"Helping." Stiles opens his door and steps out into the rain, instantly soaked through and sinking down into the mud puddle they're stuck in. There goes that pair of shoes. Allison is looking at him like he's an idiot, and he has to yell over the sound of the rain. "Climb over into the driver's seat, and when I say go, press on the gas."

"Oh my god," Allison says. "I meant call a tow truck!"

Stiles gives her a horrified look. "Like hell! Just get over here, okay? We can do this."

Allison shakes her head but she climbs over, scowling deeply at the steering wheel, which, _not cool_. It never did anything to her.

"When I say go," he repeats, and she nods her head.

He leaves the driver's door open so she'll be able to hear him over the rain, and gets into position behind the Jeep. The back window is covered in mud, and Stiles winces at how many automatic car washes he's going to have to go through to get his baby clean again.

He braces himself as solidly as he can, hands on the back of the Jeep and feet still deep in mud, and yells, "Go!"

The engine roars as Allison hits the gas, and the tires start spinning wildly. Mud goes _everywhere_ , flying several feet back and all the way up to the roof, and Stiles gets completely covered in it. The Jeep doesn't move, even with him pushing as hard as he can, and when he opens his mouth to yell for Allison to stop, all he gets for his efforts is a mouthful of mud.

And then the Jeep does move – about one foot forward. It's not enough to get them unstuck, but it is enough for Stiles to lose his balance, feet slipping in the mud, and flail desperately for something to hold on to. His fingers and the back of the Jeep are slick, however, and there's nothing he can do as he goes down, landing face first in the giant mud puddle. 

Fuck his life.

"Stiles?" Allison calls back. "I think we moved a little. Where'd you go?"

Stiles pushes himself up and doesn't even bother trying to shake off any of the mud; there' s just too much of it. He sloughs his way back to the still-open driver's door, muttering a string of curses under his breath. When Allison sees him her eyes go wide and she covers her mouth with one hand. Her shoulders start to shake, and Stiles glares at her.

"Not one fucking word, Allison," he says, and has to spit out a glob of mud.

Allison, because she's Allison and secretly a ninja, grabs her phone and snaps a picture before he can even think about moving. He groans, and then sees her open a new text.

" _Don't you dare_ –"

His phone chimes in the passenger seat, which means she must have sent it as a group message.

To everyone.

Seriously, fuck his life.

"You're evil," he says, and then thinks fuck it, and grabs her around the waist, pulling her out into the rain and mud with him.

Allison shrieks, throwing her phone back into the Jeep at the last minute, and somehow ends up straddling Stiles' back and shoving his face into the mud. He's already too muddy to care, though, so he just flips them over and starts flinging it at her like some sort of deranged monkey.

"Oh my _god_ ," Allison cries, and starts throwing the stuff back at him.

It's the most fun Stiles can remember having in ages, and eventually they're both laughing so hysterically that all they can do is collapse against each other and hold on.

"You are such a little shit," Allison says when they've calmed down, and rubs a handful of mud into his hair.

Stiles grins and drops some down the front of her shirt before she can move away, enjoying the outraged gasp as she clutches at her chest. "Yeah, but you're a she-devil, so I think we're pretty even."

"Can we call a tow truck now?"

Stiles sighs and tilts his head back to look up at his Jeep. "Tow truck it is."

*

When the guy gets there with the tow truck, he blinks at them and opens his mouth only to snap it shut again and shake his head. "Not my business."

Allison snorts, and then one hand flies up to her face, eyes going wide. "Oh fuck, I have mud in my nose."

Stiles starts to laugh, and only stops when Allison jumps on him piggy-back style, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. She bites his ear but it's not much as far as threats go, so Stiles just grins and carries her to the Jeep as soon as the guy has it pulled out of the giant mud puddle.

*

"Just a small town girl –"

"Livin' in a lonely world –"

"She took the midnight train goin' anywhere –"

"Just a city boy –"

"Born and raised in South Detroit –"

"He took the midnight train goin' anywhere –"

*

They stop at a diner just over the border into California. It's tradition, something they started that very first road trip during the summer between freshman and sophomore year, when they were exhausted and aggravated and had gotten lost more times than either of them could remember. They hadn't eaten in almost twelve hours, and had stopped at the first place they saw. The food had been so good they'd almost cried when they left.

Now, Stiles parks the thoroughly cleaned Jeep in one of the parking spaces right in front and kills the engine, staring at the small silver and red building.

"Can you believe this will be the last time we eat here?" Stiles says.

Allison reaches over and twines their hands together. "It doesn't have to be."

"We live eight hours away," Stiles says, squeezing her hand. "It's not like we can just pop over for lunch."

"Special occasions," Allison says, shrugging. "When Scott and I get married, when you and Derek get married. Things like that."

"Married?" Stiles splutters, flushing hotly. "Me and _Derek_?"

Allison grins slyly at him and he laughs, but the idea turns itself over in his head and it's not as scary as he thinks it could be.

Maybe one day.

"Come on," Allison says, releasing his hand and opening her door to climb out. "We've got food orgasms to achieve."

They sit at the same table they always do, in the back corner next to a window overlooking a forest and a couple of low mountains on the horizon. Their waitress is someone they don't recognize, even vaguely; her nametag says _Greta_.

"Hello, Greta," Stiles says cheerfully when she tries to hand them menus. "Thanks, but we don't need those."

"Two cheeseburgers, two curly fries, and two vanilla shakes," Allison says with a grin, ordering for both of them.

Greta blinks, and then smiles widely. "Well, aren't you two just adorable? I'll be right back with those meals."

She walks away and Stiles and Allison stare at each other over the table.

"Did she just –"

Stiles nods. "Yep."

Allison's mouth twists, and Stiles rubs the side of his nose. After a moment, they both give it up and start laughing.

Greta brings their food about ten minutes later, that wide smile still on her face. "So how long have you two been together?" she asks, setting their plates down in front of them.

"We're not," Stiles says, grabbing a curly fry and dropping it into his mouth.

"Oh," Greta says, blinking. "I'm so sorry, I just assumed –"

"Pretty sure both our boyfriends would have something to say about that," Allison says, reaching for the ketchup to drown her fries in.

"I can't believe you still do that." Stiles scrunches his nose and gestures at the ketchup. "You're ruining a perfectly good plate of fries."

Allison scoffs. "I'm not ruining them, I'm _enhancing_ them. Fries without ketchup are just potatoes."

"Yeah, _fried_ potatoes," Stiles says, rolling his eyes.

Neither of them notice when Greta slips away.

They take their first bite of cheeseburger together, as per tradition, and both of them let out an obscene moan that earns them dirty looks from a couple of parents with young children nearby. Stiles can't bring himself to care; these burgers are the best thing he's ever tasted in his entire life, and this is possibly the last time he'll ever have one.

"You know what?" he says, licking grease off his fingers. "I'm not going to marry Derek. I'm going to marry whoever makes these burgers."

"Not if I get there first," Allison says, which is not even remotely okay, so Stiles kicks her under the table.

Allison kicks back, hard enough to make him almost choke on his next bite. They scuffle for a few minutes, until the family they'd offended with their food-sex noises gets up and leaves, huffing at them as they pass their table. Stiles and Allison watch them go, and then laugh into their milkshakes.

"I'm going to miss this," Allison says, glancing around at the diner as she picks at her fries. "I feel like the past four years went by way too fast."

"They did," Stiles says. "They also went by way too fucking slow."

Allison nods. "What made us think moving all the way across the country from our boyfriends was a good idea?"

"We did it, though," Stiles says. "We made it through four years and two long-distance relationships. We've graduated from NYU – we've got _degrees_ , Allison. And now we're going home. I know we're not done, we've still got grad school to get through, but. _Home_."

"Home," Allison repeats, nodding slowly. "Stiles, we're going home."

Stiles swallows, and suddenly his eyes are burning. "Yeah. Yeah, we are."

*

Greta brings them each a free slice of the best coconut cream pie on the West coast as an apology.

They both give her a hug before they go.

*

"And still those voices are calling from far away –"

"Wake you up in the middle of the night –"

"Just to hear them say –"

"Welcome to the Hotel California –"

*

Stiles drops Allison off first, Scott meeting them in the driveway of his mom's house. Allison literally jumps into Scott's arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing him deeply, and Stiles rolls his eyes. It's just for show, though; he hasn't been remotely bothered by Scott and Allison's public displays of affection for years now. Besides, he knows he'll be all over Derek as soon as he walks in the door of the loft.

Stiles grabs a few of Allison's bags from the back of the Jeep and carries them over to the front porch. By the time he gets back to the Jeep Allison has detached herself from Scott and he's able to give his best friend a hug of his own.

"Dude," Stiles says, pulling back enough to settle his hands on Scott's shoulders, making his expression as solemn as possible. "Are you seriously going to make Allison stay at your mom's house this summer?"

Allison punches him in the side, but Stiles just grunts and doesn't let go.

Scott actually looks embarrassed, and gives him a grin Stiles hasn't seen since sophomore year of high school. "Actually, I've been looking at apartments. Since we're all going to grad school so close together, I figured it was time to get a place of my own."

"Oh my god, dude, that's awesome," Stiles says with a grin, not having expected Scott to have thought that far ahead. Of course, a lot's changed since high school, and Scott has always been a lot smarter and more mature than people give him credit for. Stiles should have known. "I'm happy for you."

"Stiles," Allison says, and she's looking at Scott even as she's talking to him. "I would really like to have sex with my boyfriend now."

"Okay," Stiles says, dropping his hands and clapping them together. "That's obviously my cue to leave."

He punches Scott on the shoulder and gives Allison a hug before hopping into his Jeep, his mind already jumping ahead to what his own evening will entail. Lots of dicks in asses, he hopes. And kissing. God, he misses kissing Derek.

"Paintball on Saturday?" Scott yells as Stiles is pulling out of the driveway.

"You're going down," Stiles says in response, and returns the wide grin Scott gives him before peeling off down the street.

It's a twenty minute ride to Derek's loft, and Stiles forces himself to go five under the speed limit. The last thing he needs is to get pulled over and have his dad know he's back in town before his required twenty-four hours at Derek's are up. Not that Derek would actually try to keep him from seeing his dad if Stiles really wanted to – and he does, he loves his dad, it's just… _Derek_. And sex.

There's an empty spot next to the Camaro, and Stiles parks his Jeep in it with a wide grin. He grabs his duffle bag from the back and trots into the building, taking the stairs two at a time all the way up; the elevator gets stuck sometimes, and he doesn't want to risk it.

Derek opens the door to his loft before Stiles even has a chance to knock, and fists his hand in Stiles' t-shirt, dragging him inside.

"Hello to you too," Stiles says, laughing breathlessly, and barely manages to drop his bag before Derek is slamming the door shut and pushing Stiles against it, slotting their mouths together.

Stiles groans deep in his chest, burying his hands in Derek's hair and opening himself to the tongue licking at his mouth. Kissing Derek is always an experience, whether it's desperate kisses like the present one, when they've been apart for far too long, or deep and rough in the middle of sex, or slow and lazy makeouts on the couch. Stiles thinks he could kiss Derek forever if given the chance.

"God, I missed you," Stiles says when Derek breaks away to mouth his way down Stiles' jaw. "I am never, ever leaving you again."

"Good," Derek says, biting at the bit of skin just above his collar. "That means you'll say yes when I ask you to move in."

Stiles draws in a sharp breath, pushing gently at Derek's chest until he moves back far enough to meet Stiles' eyes. "Are you serious?"

Derek raises one eyebrow and nods, and he looks confident on the outside but Stiles knows him well enough to see the vulnerability in his stupidly gorgeous eyes. 

"Your new school really isn't that far," Derek says, and the hand still twisted in Stiles' shirt tightens briefly. "I was hoping you might consider commuting?"

Stiles can't stop the beaming grin that breaks across his face, his heart pounding ridiculously beneath Derek's fist. "Yes," he says. "I would fucking _love_ to move in with you."

The relief on Derek's face is almost comical, and Stiles laughs with joy as he reaches out to pull him back into a deep, messy kiss. Derek makes a slightly broken noise, releasing Stiles' shirt and sliding his hands down to the back of Stiles' thighs. Taking the hint, Stiles jumps like Allison had with Scott, Derek's hands strong under his ass as Stiles wraps his legs around Derek's waist.

"Upstairs, now," Stiles says, and Derek growls against his mouth.

They don't actually try to go up the spiral staircase like that, Derek reluctantly setting Stiles down at the base. Stiles twines their fingers together and pulls Derek up behind him, and as soon as they reach the open bedroom he lets go and starts stripping his clothes off.

"I need you in me right the fuck now," Stiles says, dropping his shirt on the floor and reaching for his belt even as he kicks his shoes off. "We can go slow next time."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Derek says, and pulls his own shirt over his head before reaching for his fly.

As soon as Stiles steps out of his jeans and underwear Derek pushes him backward onto the bed, crawling up after him and straddling Stiles' hips, both of them naked. He presses their mouths together, licking past Stiles' lips, and Stiles groans as he slides his hands down over Derek's ass, squeezing the soft cheeks and rolling his hips up to grind their dicks together.

"Fuck," Derek gasps, and pulls away to fumble in the bedside table.

"Yeah, hurry up," Stiles says, and laughs when that earns him a sharp slap on his thigh.

The lube is cold, and Stiles hisses as Derek eases one finger in, pumping it in and out until he can get a second in with it. It's been a while, months, and Stiles whines at the burning feel of it.

"Okay?" Derek asks, not taking his eyes off his fingers as they move inside of Stiles.

Stiles nods, spreading his legs as wide as they'll go. "More. Come on, Derek, you know I won't break."

Derek groans and adds a third finger, twisting them around and pulling gently at Stiles' rim to stretch him out. "You're so beautiful."

It comes out as a murmur, quiet and almost private, and Stiles flushes the way he always does when Derek says something like that. Derek doesn't seem to notice, and Stiles doesn't say anything, tucking the words away in his memory to smile over later.

Finally, Derek pulls his fingers out and reaches for the lube again, spreading some over his cock and pressing the head against Stiles' hole. Before he pushes in he leans down and kisses Stiles again, one hand cupping Stiles' jaw, fingers trailing along his skin. Derek's dick breaches him, pushing in slow and deep, and Stiles groans into Derek's mouth, their tongues sliding together.

Despite what they both said they start off slow, Derek trying to give him time to adjust; fortunately, even after months apart, Stiles' body doesn't take long. He's always loved the way Derek feels inside of him, filling him like nothing else can, stretching him open and making him want to cry with pleasure.

Derek suddenly snaps his hips, making Stiles arch and cry out. His dick is hard against his stomach, aching to be touched, but as soon as he starts to reach for it Derek grabs his hands and pins them to the bed, twining their fingers together.

"No," he says, nipping at the pulse in Stiles' neck. "Not yet."

Stiles groans but doesn't complain, lifting his legs to wrap around Derek's waist, his heels pressing into Derek's ass and urging him to get on with it. Their range of motion is more limited in this position, but Stiles doesn't care; he wants to keep Derek as close to him as possible. Derek seems to agree, rolling his hips and pushing as deep as he can, the base of his dick spreading Stiles' rim wide on every thrust in.

"Fuck, _fuck_ ," Stiles gasps, sparks going off wherever Derek touches him. Their foreheads are pressed together, breath mingling as Stiles stares up into Derek's eyes, and he whines with the overwhelming pleasure of it all.

Stiles' thighs are trembling where he's got them locked around Derek's waist, so he drops his feet to the bed and spreads his legs as wide as he can. Derek grins and presses one more hard kiss to Stiles' mouth before releasing his hands and sitting up, pulling Stiles' hips into his lap as he drives deep.

"Oh my _god_ ," Stiles chokes out, hands twisting in the sheets and his eyes rolling back in his head.

Derek laughs breathlessly, and starts snapping his hips, pushing as deep in as he can, Stiles wide open around him. The angle is fucking amazing, the head of Derek's dick dragging over his prostate, and Stiles is pretty sure he's going to come any second now.

"Derek," he whines, and reaches for his dick again.

This time Derek doesn't stop him, groaning as he stares at Stiles' hand wrapped around himself. Stiles strokes roughly, twisting his wrist and watching where Derek is pounding into him, making him feel _so fucking good_.

"Gonna come," he breathes, and Derek growls softly.

The sound goes right to Stiles' core and tips him over. His ass clamps down around Derek and he cries out as his hand works over his dick, come pulsing out across his stomach.

" _Fuck_ ," Derek says, pace going erratic as he fucks Stiles through his orgasm. Stiles goes loose and pliant, groaning as Derek slams into him a few more times before pulling Stiles' hips close and pressing all the way in. He grunts, eyes falling half-closed, hips grinding against Stiles' ass as he comes.

He doesn't pull out immediately, leaning down to lick lazily into Stiles' mouth. Stiles' skin is buzzing, his blood hot in his veins, and he reaches up to tug gently on Derek's hair.

"Love you," Stiles says, biting at Derek's chin and dragging his tongue across the rough stubble on his jaw.

Derek smiles and pulls out, a trickle of come following and making Stiles wrinkle his nose. "Don't move, I'll go grab a washcloth."

He drops a kiss onto the tip of Stiles' nose and rolls out of bed, heading for the bathroom. Stiles stretches and yawns, body aching in all the best ways. A minute later Derek reappears with a damp cloth and cleans Stiles up before tossing it onto the floor carelessly.

"When you get up in the middle of the night to piss and step on something cold and slimy, I don't want to hear it," Stiles says, grinning when Derek snorts.

"Welcome home, Stiles," Derek says, pulling him close and nuzzling against his neck.

Stiles hums happily and closes his eyes. Home, he thinks, and knows he won't miss New York at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Songs in order of appearance:
> 
> [Free Bird](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kgkYN3QjD5M) by Lynyrd Skynyrd
> 
> [Life is a Highway](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U3sMjm9Eloo) by Tom Cochrane
> 
> [Living on a Prayer](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDK9QqIzhwk) by Bon Jovi
> 
> [Don't Stop Believing](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rfUYuIVbFg0) by Journey
> 
> [Hotel California](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NUbTW928sMU) by The Eagles
> 
>  
> 
> If you want, you can follow me on [tumblr](http://mysecretashes.tumblr.com/), where I reblog things that other people reblogged first.


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